An Idiot's Drug
by Falmine
Summary: Alcoholic!Veneziano x Germany. More chapters on the way, folks! Originally a one-shot, but turned to a full story by request.
1. An Idiot's Drug

I shouldn't be doing this, and I know I shouldn't. But the bottle feels so comforting on my lips, knowing that soon I'll forget all of this trouble. Soon, I'll be nothing but a butterfly in an empty field, free to fly away. So long as I keep this bottle at my lips. I know there are people out there, people that probably want me to stop. Or, they would. But none of them know, none of them care enough to check. I've had this problem for so long, it's beginning to become part of who I am. It's part of me, part of my soul.

I know it's wrong, I know I'm horrible. I know that I'm a failure. Perhaps that's what leads me to drink more. I know I'm a failure for drinking, so I drink to drown my sorrow. A never ending cycle of pain and misery. I'm forever stuck in this loop of pain or drunkenness. The side effects- Why are they so high for me? Triple what they should be. Every night, passing out or throwing up my evening's pay. I'll be like this until I meet my prince, the one that can save me. The one person who cares enough to check.

The world is spinning, I can see it...Tonight is just like every other. The shitty bar that doesn't limit their drinks, the same assholes from last night and the same assholes I'll see again tomorrow. I take my regular place, like always, and order my first drink of many. But I hear footsteps, big, new footsteps. A man sits next to me. This is a nice change to my routine of madness. I don't bother to look at him, there's no point. He'll leave once he figures out how shitty this place is. Perhaps he's wondering why he's here. Perhaps he's another asshole. I don't allow myself any hope that he's a decent guy.

That is, until he turns to me and speaks words my ears are too far gone to hear. I blink a few times, his voice loud and gruff in my ears. I turn back to the waiter and motion for another drink, pulling another payment out of my old leather wallet and hand it to him. I get my drink, the same as every night. But this time, someone takes the glass before I can get my first sip. The man next to me is staring at me with disapproving eyes, eyes that I'd usually ignore. But I can't, I simply can't, I can't ignore such a beautiful blue hue. I nod my head towards the bartender, and he begins to translate my movements and noises. I can't speak, my mouth is far gone with my ears. He holds out his hand, and I'm no idiot. I know that I've found my prince, my only caring person.


	2. Wanderer's Lullaby

I shake his hand, and I say a soft word. "Feliciano." A name. My name. This idiot's name. I hear his name replied to me, but it's just static and blurred words to me. I stare at him, hopelessly lost in those blue eyes. I merely shake my head, pulling my hand. Perhaps I am an idiot. Someone taking advantage of an alcoholic like me? Not a new concept. But alcoholic, depressed, whatever I am, I can't be that much of an idiot. I order another drink with a wave of my hand, and it's handed to me without a care in the world. More gruff words are spoken from the man next to me, but I drink anyway.

"Ludwig". He writes it on a napkin, handing it to me. I look at him with a raised eyebrow, expecting another group of mumbled words, but there's only a small nod and a smile. I look away, nodding. So he's called Ludwig. Sounds tough, I suppose, not that bad of a name. I wave for another drink. Ludwig gives me that cold, disapproving stare, but again I ignore it. Whoever he is, he's annoyingly persistent. I pass the drink to a lady down the bar a ways, giving her a small wink, before looking back at Ludwig and speaking my first full sentence of the night.

"Gay or just friendly?" The words are slurred, even in my own head. He looks so shocked- I'm not surprised. I'm a blunt drunk, it's just who I am. I raise a finger when he opens his mouth. "I can't hear you. You have to write." I don't know if it's the truth, or just an excuse to get him to keep passing notes like a schoolgirl, making the bartender snicker. No one talks to me, how would I know what breaks this buzzing in my head. But he writes his words down on a napkin, sliding it to me.

"Just a concerned citizen". I roll my eyes at him. Such a fool. I want to say something about there being no such thing, but I hold my tongue and order another drink. The bartender glances at Ludwig skeptically, and I wave him off. He's not bothering me, why say anything? Ludwig watches me down another, and I can feel the cold stare on my skin. It's terrifying, exhilarating, and slightly annoying all at the same time. I turn myself in my seat to face him.

"Concerned for me?" I laugh, and he frowns. He picks up his pen to write again, but then he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. I see him, but I'm to distracted by my own chuckles and self thought to care, and too tired to say anything. So he speaks. And this time, the words aren't as muffled.

"Concerned for you, yes." He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I push it off. The bartender frowns at us, giving us the stink eye. I know what that means. No fighting or no drinks. I shrink back into my seat, looking at him curiously. I know him from somewhere, but it didn't occur to me until I heard his voice. Ludwig. I knew the name, definitely. Somewhere in the back of my mind. But I don't want to frighten him away, so I cough and look back at him.

"There's nothing to be concerned about here, sir." I keep my voice steady, though just like I know I would if I stood up, it wobbles. I shut my eyes and lie my head down on the cool wood counter of the bar, and I feel the hand again, this time on my back. It makes me shiver, but then it starts moving in circles, and I'm confused. This stranger, who I just met, is rubbing my back. That's a bit odd. And yet, part of me- well- most of me- doesn't want him to stop. When was the last time someone rubbed my back? Must of been forever ago. Too long ago for this dead brain to remember. I move to order another drink, but he gently moves my hand away. I frown. Prince or not, he doesn't control me. I call for another drink, and I down it. Right in front of him.

"You shouldn't keep doing that." His voice is now stoic, as is his expression. Either a) he stopped caring, or b) he's hiding how much he cares. I guess the second one. I shrug it off and stand up, looking down at him. I need a driver, like always, and as I gaze around the bar, I see the usual driver is flirting. Like always. I take a step towards him, then stop. I could get a ride back with Ludwig. The idea makes me want to vomit and smile all at the same time. Or perhaps it's just the alcohol making me want to puke. Who knows. I smile at him, but he frowns disapprovingly. So he can tell the difference between real and fake smiles. Good on him. My face goes back to a steely expression, and without a word, he stands up, hooking his arm in mine, and walks me out to his car. Perhaps this is my Prince. Or perhaps I've gotten myself into more trouble than I'm worth. We'll see.


	3. Shut Up

"Dogs." That was my first thought when I entered his car. I could see the hairs, plus I could smell the nasty scent of _wet dog._ It made me cringe and writhe in the seat, and he put a hand on my head. He was holding me in place, like I was some little kid! I puffed my cheeks out at him, and reached up to move his hand. He moved it before I could reach it, a small grunt escaping Ludwig's lips.

"Yes, I have dogs." He said, and I could feel the admiration coming off him. He loved is dogs. Too bad I didn't. I rolled my eyes, lying my head on the seat belt holder and shutting my eyes. I could hear that noise, the constant high pitched buzzing. It'd been there for as long as I could remember, but it stopped bothering me after a while. We drove, and drove, the bright, neon signs flashing in my dulled eyes and nearly blinding me. I frowned, blinking as we passed another bar, then another, and another.

"Lots of bars around here, are you taking the alcoholic out for a drink?" I chuckled dryly at my own joke, but he didn't even crack a smile. I mumbled a small frustrated rant under my breath that consisted of slurred Italian and a few choice words, when I noticed we had stopped. But we weren't at any house, there was no white picket fence or freshly mowed lawn. There was concrete and...A club? What the hell? Was he really taking me out for a drink? He moved to unbuckle me, but I shooed his hand away and did it myself. "Why're we here?"

He peered into my very soul with those curious blue eyes, and then shrugged. "I'm here to dance." Was his simple response, and he stepped out of the car. "Dance and smoke. Speaking of the second one, can you hand me that pack?" I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He didn't look like much of a dancer, or a smoker for that matter, but it didn't matter to me. I handed the pack to him through the open window, and I stepped into the cool night air.

"Smells like sweat and alcohol." I leaned comfortably against the car, chuckling to myself, because to me, it smelt like home. He chuckled as well, leaning over and ruffling my hair. Again, making me feel like a child? Was this necessary? I rolled my eyes, ducking out from under his hand and slipping into the club. The beat was catchy at least, and there were a lot of women with their tits half out and men with their pants so low, it looked like any of them could have tripped on them at any moment. My brain instinctively told me to go to the bar, but my body was drawn to the music. So I moved to the dance floor instead, looking for a lady to dance with. But, alas, there were none to my liking, or, more accurately, none period. All were taken and dancing with another man that was obviously not me. I scanned the crowd for mister grumpy mc-dog owner, but he was nowhere to be found. That is, until I felt a hand on my shoulder and a mouth against my ear.

"Shut up and dance." Ludwig's voice wasn't rough anymore, but smooth and calm. He spun me around and placed a hand on my waist, which immediately made me whine. Why did I have to be the female in this dance? Well, he was roughly the size of a small fighter jet, so I didn't complain. At least not out loud. Now, I don't think I mentioned this, but I'm an awful dancer. My legs seize up after my first move, and I just can't dance. The expression 'Two left feet' isn't enough, sometimes I feel like I've got seven or eight. But then that makes me wonder how I walk and how I do basic things, and it just makes my head hurt. I have no interest in hurting my head any more than I already do. Out of the corner of my eye, I swore I saw a lady in a nurse's outfit. She looked hella fine too, it was tight...Fit her quite well. I chuckled to myself , and moved a little closer to Ludwig, allowing him to hold me in his arms.

After about ten minutes of trying to manipulate my stone feet, he must have gotten tired, because he lifted me up by my waist and gently placed me onto his feet. So I just stood on his feet as he danced, and no one was ever the wiser. I had to congratulate him on the art of making me look like a good dancer, it was a very rare and fine art. Perhaps this really, truely was my knight in shining armor. I rolled my eyes and leaned in for a kiss, but he seemed to be having no part of that, as he backed away quickly. Okay, so, knight in shining armor that doesn't like kisses. Probably because his prince smells like rotting cheese and alcohol. Ah well, that's life. It wasn't long until the song ended and Ludwig lost interest in dancing, as did my body. So my brain took over, and off to the bar I went, the gigantic blonde _house_ following me.

"He'll have a seltzer, please." Ludwig spoke for me before I could even turn to the bartender. I stared at him with a look of disbelief, and the bartender raised an eyebrow. Ludwig gave him a small shooing motion, and off he went. I reached up and hit Ludwig in the shoulder lightly. He frowned down at me, and it was obvious he barely even felt my punch. It was more of an annoyance than a pain. "You're drunk enough as it is." I rolled my eyes as he said that. There was never such thing as drunk enough. I waited patiently like a good little boy for my seltzer, then took a sip. It was disgustingly bland and painfully fizzy, but I drank it anyway. Maybe if I finished it, he'd let me get a real drink. But that was not the case, as when I looked at him again with my puppy dog eyes, all I got was another seltzer. This was gonna be a long, long night.


End file.
